The Crying of Lot 49

And:

All of which causes him high amusement. The message to Ge

Let him that vizard keep unto his grave,

That vain usurping of an honour'd name;

We'll dance his masque as if it were the truth,

Enlist the poniards swift of Those who, sworn

To punctual vendetta never sleep,

Lest at the palest whisper of the name Sweet

Niccoló hath stol'n, one trice be lost

In bringing down a fell and soulless doom Unutterable…

Back to Ge

Meanwhile, at Angelo's palace, wily Ercole's string has run out at last. Accosted by Vittorio and half a dozen others, he's charged with the murder of Domenico. Witnesses parade in, there is the travesty of a trial, and Ercole meets his end in a refreshingly simple mass stabbing.

We also see Niccoló , in the scene following, for the last time. He has stopped to rest by the shore of a lake where, he remembers being told, the Faggian Guard disappeared. He sits under a tree, opens Angelo's letter, and learns at last of the coup and the death of Pasquale. He realizes that he's riding toward restoration, the love of an entire dukedom, the coming true of all his most virtuous hopes. Leaning against the tree, he reads parts of the letter aloud, commenting, sarcastic, on what is blatantly a pack of lies devised to soothe Ge

Back in Squamuglia Angelo is trying to muster an army, without success. Desperate, he assembles those flunkies and pretty girls who are left, ritually locks all his exits, has wine brought in, and begins an orgy.

The act ends with Ge

In the presence of the miracle all fall to their knees, bless the name of God, mourn Niccoló, vow to lay Squamuglia waste. But Ge

He that we last as Thurn and Taxis knew

Now recks no lord but the stiletto's Thorn,

And Tacit lies the gold once-knotted horn.

No hallowed skein of stars can ward, I trow,